


dope denim crew (a lifetime of gina moments)

by sam_kom_trashkru



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, Brief Mention of the Rest of the Nine-Nine, Found Family, Gen, Growing Up Together, High School Fuckery, Nail Polish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam_kom_trashkru/pseuds/sam_kom_trashkru
Summary: On his first day of elementary school, a kid named Brett makes fun of his kippah and asks him why he’s wearing a frisbee on his head, is he bald? Gina stops on his foot and says, with much more sass than a girl her age should be able to muster:“Nobody likes you, Brett.”or:two best friends vs. the world





	dope denim crew (a lifetime of gina moments)

Jake can map his life into two distinct eras: Pre-Gina and Post-Gina.

(She likes to call it _BG_ and _AG_ so she can poke fun at God and make herself out to be the bright, beaming star she is.)

Even before Gina was his friend, she was there, in his peripheral. She lived next-door to his Nana, and Jake remembers nights where he would peek out the hole in the apartment door and see a little girl sticking her tongue out and pulling funny faces at her parents. She always seemed so full of life.

On his first day of elementary school, a kid named Brett makes fun of his kippah and asks him why he’s wearing a frisbee on his head, is he _bald?_ Gina stops on his foot and says, with much more sass than a girl her age should be able to muster:

“Nobody likes you, Brett.” And then. “Your kippah is cool, even though it clashes horribly with your sweater. I could bedazzle it for you, if you want. Fifteen dollars.” Gina’s special like that.

It’s the start of a beautiful friendship.

Sure, she makes fun of him as much as the next kid, but not in the mean way that make Jake’s skin crawl and his stomach churn. When Gina pokes fun at him, he can tell it’s just that, poking fun, meant to make him smile and laugh and shoot something back. It's loving and playful, not mean-spirited and cruel.

(He stops wearing his kippah after his dad leaves, because his dad always said it looked funny, and maybe that was why he left, because Jake wasn’t a good enough son, wasn’t what he wanted. Gina steals it and Jake finds it covered in glittering rhinestones tucked under his bed where he hid it.)

Every day after school they go to Nana’s and fight over who gets The Chair and play video games and talk about everything and nothing, usually all the drama in Gina’s life that Jake can hardly keep up with, she’s pretty much the Beyonce of their school, and on special days Gina will paint his nails.

“I’m feeling buttercup yellow today, Jakey. Sound good?”

“Toight.”

Gina rolls her eyes at him but pulls his hands onto her lap anyways, applying the pre-coat and humming to herself softly. It’s Backstreet Boys, Jake can tell.

“Do you think Jenny will like this color on me?” Jake asks as Gina starts painting strips of soft yellow on his nailbed. “I think it brings out my eyes.”

“You worry too much about what other people think about you,” Gina tells him instead of answering, but of course Gina would say something like that. Gina is filled to the brim with confidence and showmanship and Jake is still finding himself, wondering how she does it. “Just worry about you, dude.” A pause. “It does compliment your eyes though.”

Jakes smiles at her and Gina smiles back.

“Dork.”

After Jake’s bar mitzvah, when Jenny breaks up with him―could it be called that? It was hardly a relationship in the first place―they go back to Nana’s and Gina paints his nails a bright bubblegum pink.

“To cheer you up,” is all she says. “Plus, pink is dope. Empowering.” Jake nods.

“Women are awesome.” Even when they break up with you at your own bar mitzvah.

“Hell yeah, dude.”

(Gina doesn’t have a bat mitzvah, because her father is staunchly catholic and fights about it with her mother for days, but if she did, Jake imagines she would’ve danced with every boy she wanted.

“Don’t worry, Jakey,” she assures him, “I would’ve saved the first dance for you.”)

High school is a completely different beast than anything they’ve ever tackled before. The very first day, Jake can tell.

There’s a different sort of clamor, a jockeying for attention that he’s never managed to master, a clear division between people who are cool and people who are… _not_.

Gina bursts through the double doors of Brooklyn High―eerily reminiscent of the entrance to a prison―like she owns the place. Her head is held high, her back is straight, and her general aura yells ‘ _don’t fuck with me, I’m better than you’_. It’s pretty awesome.

But then something in the pit of Jake’s stomach sinks because he’s seen movies about high schools, he’s not an idiot. Gina’s cool, and he isn’t. He knows how this is going to go. He trails after her somberly, hands stuffed in pockets of over-sized jeans, wondering how long it will take for him to be left behind. It’s happened before, after all.

They don’t have any classes together until after lunch, but when Jake starts poking at his roll-up and sour gummy worm sandwich, Gina knows something is wrong.

“What’s got you down in the dumps, Jakey-poo?” He shrugs, pushing the candy away from him, which is perhaps the biggest red flag in the Jake Peralta playbook of life.

“Dunno.”

Gina squints at him suspiciously.

“Do I need to glitter-bomb somebody’s locker already? It’s only been like, four hours. I’ll do it though, kids need to know I mean business around here.” He cracks a shaky smile and Gina nudges him on the shoulder.

The next day she shows up at his house early, before the bus, brandishing matching denim jackets and black nail polish. Jake, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, tumbles out of his bead hastily when Gina throws open the door to his room, squeaking.

“I’m not wearing pants!”

“Don’t get your tighty-whities in a twist, dude, nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“How did you even get in?”

“I picked the lock.” She deadpans, plopping herself down at the foot of his bed. “Your mom let me in, dumbass, how do you think?” That makes more sense, but Jake wouldn’t put lock-picking past Gina. She can do pretty much anything when she puts her mind to it.

She presents the jackets to him with a grand flourish and Jake gawks because they’re _awesome,_ like Gina, and matching! He’s always wanted matching jackets with someone.

“Figured we needed them, to show the school who runs the place now,” Gina explains, as she starts painting her own nails. Jake stares at her, wide-eyed and hopeful. “What? Didn’t think you’d get rid of me _that_ easily, did you Peralta? I’m your mamma wolf, and you’re my cub, that’s real life shit.”

“Toight.” Gina ignores the way his voice cracks and just rolls her eyes fondly at him.

His eyes glisten but he’s _not_ crying. Crying is reserved for manly things, like watching Die Hard or stubbing his toe on the kitchen table. Gina paints his nails, too, and this time, they walk through the doors of Brooklyn High side-by-side.

(Sure, Gina has to glitter-bomb someone’s locker for making a snide comment about Jake’s painted nails, but it’s totally worth it.)

High school is a lot like prehistoric Earth. There’s a primal social hierarchy with students clawing at each other to get higher, fighting like wild beasts. At their year, there’s no doubt that Brandon Bliss is at the top, with his stupid cool perfect hair and dreamy blue eyes―not that Jake would describe them like that, not at all.

“I heard he lost his virginity at twelve,” he tells Gina at lunch over a pile of sweets, and she scrunches her nose at him the way she always does when he’s said something stupid and she’s refraining from tearing apart his entire being with scathing commentary.

“Dude, isn’t that like, illegal?”

“I mean yeah but, c’mon Gina, it’s _awesome_ .” Jake hasn’t even had his first kiss yet, let alone done any of… _that_. In fact, he doesn’t think he knows anyone who has, other than his parents, which, yuck. As if summoned by people talking about him, Brandon strolls into the cafeteria, surrounded by his little posse, and Jake cranes his neck to get a good look at him. Gina, upon noticing this, does everything to impede his line of sight.

“Gina you’re blocking my view.”

She pulls back, affronted, and Jake rolls his eyes, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Excuse me? I am your view, nay, I am _the_ view.” She shakes her head and makes small, dissapointed noises in the back of her throat. “I do you the favor of gracing you with my very presence, my godly being, and _this_ is the thanks I get? So much for years of friendship, Jacob.” He sticks his tongue out at her and she steals one of his sour gummy worms in retaliation, which is an act of war in of itself, so Jake forgets about Brandon Bliss momentarily.

But only momentarily.

“He’s so _hot_ . And _cool_.” Gina throws an empty can of rootbeer at his head from her position hanging upside-down off of Nana’s best chair―she claims she gets her best ideas from all the blood rushing to her head.

“ _You’re_ cool, Jake.” A pause. “I’m not gonna say you’re hot, because that’s weird and you’re like my baby brother. Plus, we all know that I’m both the Beauty and the Brains of this operation.”

“What does that make me? The Brawn?”

“No, your arms are too little for that. I guess I’ve gotta be the whole damn show. You can just be my adoring audience.” Jake nods, because that makes sense, and the two of them fall into a comfortable silence. His nails are still painted black, and he smiles at them, partly because they make him feel badass, but mostly because they remind him of Gina.

“...you really think I’m cool?” This time, Gina lobs a whole pack of oreos at his head, which hurts more than an empty soda can.

“ _Yes_ , you imbecile.” That’s a new one. She fixes him with a stern glare, which would look more intimidating if she wasn’t still hanging upside-down, cheeks flushed red. “I wouldn’t be friends with you if I didn’t. You need to stop doubting yourself, it isn’t healthy. You’d think some of my well-deserved confidence would have rubbed off on you after all these years.”

“Yeah, you preen like a goose.” Gina stares at him for a long, hard second.

“What?”

“You know? Geese? They walk around all fancy like they own the place, preening their feathers and all that…” he trails off, because Gina has a mischievous, shit-eating sort of grin on her face that can never mean anything good.

“Do you mean I preen like a _swan_ , Jacob? Really, this is a new low for you.”

“What’s the difference between a goose and a swan, Gina. And do they even exist? All I ever see are pigeons anyways.”

“Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“So does that mean you’re conceding to the existence of God?”

Gina flings a cookie at him that she fished out of her bra.

“Dweeb.”

“ _Goose.”_

On Halloween, Jake wakes up to Gina looming over him, fake fangs shining and unnervingly realistic blood dripping down her chin. He screams like a little baby, and Gina laughs herself silly.

Karen peaks her head through the door to make sure nobody’s been murdered, sees Gina and waves at her, before promptly walking back out. She never likes to stick around for their shenanigans.

“You finished your costume, right?” Jake’s going as Smalls, and Gina as Daria. It’s gonna be _toight_. “Because I got us an invite to a very exclusive party, top tier shit, and I can’t have you show up in some lame get-up. I need to recruit for Floor-Gasm, and this seems like the best opportunity.”

“Will there be alcohol?”

“Probably.”

“Drugs?”

“Most definitely.”

“ _Toight_.”

Not only is there alcohol _and_ drugs in abundance, but the party also contains one Brandon Bliss, decked out as Danny from Grease. Jake practically swoons.

“He’s so _hot_ ,” he sighs, leaning on Gina, who is sipping out of a red solo cup that smells suspiciously like battery acid. “How does he do it?”

“Quit drooling, Smalls.” Gina tosses her hair over her shoulder and pretends not to care. “You’ll ruin my jacket.” She gives Brandon an appraising look, nose scrunching at the mostly leather ensemble. “He’s not even that cute anyways, I’d give him a six.”

“He’s at _least_ an eight, Gina, give the man some credit,” Jake balks, “I mean, c’mon, he lost his virginity at _twelve_.”

“Which is still horrifying, by the way.”

“Psssh.”

Jake watches as Brandon expertly rolls a joint, seals it with a quick lick of his tongue, and leans further into Gina, almost melting.

“God, you’re useless.”

The obsession (crush) on Brandon only continues to grow as high school continues on its gloomy path, brightened intermittently by Gina’s flamboyant dance numbers during lunch, passing periods, or any time she had the opportunity, really.

“I’m going to go to Juilliard, just you watch Jacobeth,” she swore, “they’d be a fool to pass by _this_ once-in-a-lifetime talent.”

He steals Gina’s look, growing out his hair and piercing one of his ears―though he’ll never admit, under threat of death, that he stole the look from her―and suddenly, miraculously, people start noticing him.

“Nice hair, Peralta.”

“Sick earring, dude.”

It’s intoxicating. Brandon Bliss even invites Jake to ditch class, steal a school van, and get drunk at his parents house. Life is looking pretty alright.

Until Tattlegate.

Jake sighs morosely, hanging upside-down from Nana’s Chair, because Gina says she thinks best upside-down and Gina always has the best ideas, trying to figure out what happened. Who could have tattled? And who said it was him?

“Don’t worry, Jakey,” Gina plops down on the ground next to him and starts braiding his hair, “you’re too cool for them anyways.” They’re still wearing their matching jackets, and matching earrings, and matching _everything_ (because they’re the Dope Denim Crew, and that’s what a Crew does), and she makes him feel better, like she always does.

“You really think so?”

“Of course,” Gina swears, “and besides, why would you need to steal a van and get drunk at some loser’s house when we could just stay here and get drunk off of Nana’s old wine and paint our nails?” She makes a very convincing argument.

Two glasses of wine in, as Gina is focused very intently on painting pigeons on Jake’s nails, he starts talking, mouth full of sour gummy worms.

“You’re right.”

“I usually am,” Gina quips, “but about what? I like to be validated.”

“I don’t need Brandon Bliss and his dumb friends,” he nods as if to emphasize the point. “I have you, don’t I?” She smiles at him softly and continues her work. “I don’t know why I was so obsessed with him in the first place.”

“Because you have the biggest crush on him I’ve ever seen,” Gina deadpans, taking a sip out of her own glass.

Jake blinks at her owlishly for a moment before it hits him.

“Oh my god.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, he _can_ rub two brain cells together to form coherent thought!” She clanks her glass against his. “Cheers, Jakey.”

“Oh my god Gina am I _gay?”_

“Not after all that pining over Jenny Gildenhorn. You can like both, you know.”

“Oh, thank god.” He holds his glass tighter to his chest, almost protectively. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Would you be mad if I told you I kissed Jenny Gildenhorn?”

“What!? Yes! Yes, I would be very mad. I didn’t even get to kiss Jenny Gildenhorn, and we dated!”

“Well, good thing I kissed her older sister Peggy,” Gina sips her wine and raises her eyebrows at him, “you really are clueless, Jakey.”

“Good thing I’ve got you then, Goose.”

“Damn straight.”

Senior year is just Jake and Gina, like it always has been, and Jake’s oddly okay with it. Sure, he could do without kids sneering _tattler_ at him every time they see him passing in the hallways, but Gina takes care of them with some quick lockpicking and a surplus of glitter.

“It never gets old,” she laughs to herself as Brandon Bliss storms through the halls, covered head-to-toe in a glittery pink mess. A career fair rolls into town and Jake decides that he wants to go to the Academy, to become a police officer, a detective, to help people. Gina is wholly unimpressed by this, still filling out her application for Juilliard.

“You can arrest drunk babies on Halloween, _I_ will be America’s next muse.”

They graduate and throw their ugly blue caps as far into the air as they can. Karen takes pictures of them, clutching at each other and beaming.

(Jake gets into the Academy no problem. Gina gets rejected from Juilliard and he helps her break into the admissions office to cover the whole place in the gaudiest glitter they can find. Nobody will ever trace it back to them.)

They grow up.

Jake gets Gina a job at the precinct, and she flourishes like she always does. On Saturday nights they watch trashy reality TV and get wine drunk―Jake won’t smoke weed anymore, he’s a _cop_ , Gina―and paint each other’s nails and talk about their future.

Jake blossoms and grows into the man he was always meant to be and Gina watches, smiling softly, from her corner desk where she barks out orders to her adoring citizens, fingers a constant flurry of movement, eyes wide with dreams of bigger things. She knows, Jake knows, everyone knows that she was meant for something more.

Gina has a baby.

Jake isn’t there when she’s born, but god he wishes he was.

He meets baby Enigma, little Iggy, as soon as he can, and his heart swells so big he think it might burst. His heart used to be just for him and his family, then Gina, but now there are others. Charles, Rosa, _Amy_ (he loves Amy so much), Terry, Captain Holt, even Hitchcock and Scully when they aren’t being the literal worst, and now there’s a part for this little baby girl too.

“She won’t have a simchat bat,” Gina tells him, because Gina’s never been very religious. She believes in herself more than she will ever believe in any god. “But know I would have put her on your lap.”

Jake looks up at her, cradling Iggy in his arms, eyes wet with tears, and smiles.

When he was seven and Roger left, Jake thought he would never have a family that loved him and he loved in return, but now he sees he had it all along. This is his family. Gina and Iggy and Amy and the rest of the Nine-Nine.

“Can’t believe you made a baby goose, Goose.”

“A gosling, you mean.” Gina loves to correct him, always has. Iggy stirs in her sleep and blinks up at him, eyes big and wide and just like her mother’s, and cracks a big, toothless grin. “Hey baby, that’s your Uncle Jakey, you’re gonna love him a whole lot, even if he is kinda dumb and objectively _way_ less pretty than your stunningly beautiful and talented mother.”

He sits in Nana’s old apartment that is now Gina’s and makes silly faces at his niece inside her crib―because, really, could he call her anything else?―and Gina paints his nails buttercup yellow.

“Pretty cool, Gina.”

“I know, I’m the coolest.”

He knows whatever happens, everything will be alright. How could it not be? He has Gina.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're sad about chelsea leaving the show clap your hands. obviously I'm not over it because I wrote this. thanks for reading! if you feel like it, comments are my lifeblood! find me on tumblr @danaryas


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